Regrets
by unfold
Summary: More RoryJess. Two years after everything, they talk. The usual. R&R.


**A/N: I'm not sure why I wrote this in this odd prose/poetry form. It started like this and it wasn't supposed to be this long but I got a little carried away. Anyways. Reviews are appreciated.**

He doesn't deserve her.  
Not her curls falling into her eyes.  
Speaking of which, definitely not the azure held within.  
Not her hands, so small and fragile. He would surely break them.  
Not her mouth. Not her skin.  
Not her.  
None of it.

She is here, though. Across from him.  
She knows that he doesn't deserve it.  
It is in the way she was sitting.  
In the way she is avoiding his eyes.

Two years since his desperate plea.  
And this is their first interaction since.  
Two years since he tore all of his walls down.  
And this is the closest he has gotten to her since.  
Two years since he changed himself completely for her.  
And this is what he is left with:  
A cup of coffee  
On a cloudy morning  
In a city that threatens to consume him  
With a girl whose mere presence he is beneath.

Her fingertips toy with the hem of her shirt  
Her clever way of avoiding everything  
She is officially evasive  
His mouth opens to form a word  
But he isn't sure what word was meant  
And it is quickly closed.

"So…"  
A drawn out syllable  
For a drawn out relationship  
He looks up at her sudden attempt at conversation  
No longer avoiding his eyes  
She is once again  
Pulling him deeper into this thing  
Which he had not wanted to be drawn into.

"Why are you here?"  
Her eyes widen  
As if she had not expected this question  
Though it was inevitable.

"I…"  
False start.

"To see you, I suppose."  
Her fingers are back at her shirt again  
A nervous habit  
He bites his lip until it bleeds  
The preexisting scab opening up.

"It's been two years."  
A fact stated sans attached emotions  
Though they are hidden within  
The days that have passed.

"You're right. I just thought it would be good."  
She means it would assist her  
In the process of moving on  
And growing up  
And loving someone new.

"Oh, it's fantastic."  
This is the person she knows  
This is the familiar sarcasm.

As the crimson creeps into her cheeks  
He remembers what it was like there in winter  
In that small town, untouched by the world.

"Did you ever miss me?"  
This is not what he really wants to ask.  
What he wants to ask is:  
"I mean, do you regret not coming with me?"  
He can see it in her face  
In the way she is folding her hands  
In the way she keeps glancing out the window  
In the way she hesitates.

"…."  
The answer is there  
Just behind her eyes  
If she would let it free  
This would be so much easier.

"Yes."

"Honestly?"

"Honestly. I regretted it as soon as I said no.  
I regretted it the minute you walked out that door.  
I regretted it for the whole summer.  
The whole year.  
But, wasn't that what our relationship was?  
Regrets?"

"I guess it was."  
He feels cold suddenly.

"Alright then, what do you regret?"

"I regret everything."  
He reaches across the table  
Taking her hand  
Surprised when she doesn't pull away.  
This is the only way he can  
Keep himself composed.  
"I never told you anything.  
I'm so sorry for that."

She is silent  
Looking at their hands  
Entwined, like they used to be.  
"I wanted you to be my first."

"Excuse me?"

"I wanted you to be my first."  
This time more emphatic.

"But, he was your first.  
Your first everything."  
She is rubbing her fingertips  
Slowly against his palm.

"No. He wasn't."  
She stops her fingers  
But doesn't look up at him.

"What…I don't understand.  
He was your first boyfriend.  
Your first kiss.  
Your first love.  
Your first…"  
He stops.  
She is giving him a look  
That would be telling  
If he only understood  
What he was being told.

She lets out a breath  
Exasperated  
With the fact that she has to say it out loud.  
"He wasn't my first love.  
I didn't know what love was.  
He told me he loved me.  
I felt obligated to love him back.  
I couldn't hurt him.  
But, I didn't love him."

He takes his hand  
Back across the table  
Moving his chair backwards  
To look at her straight on.  
"So, what? I was your first love?"

She nods.  
He shakes his head.  
"Couldn't you tell  
In the way I kissed you?  
In the way I touched you?  
Couldn't you tell by how easily  
I cast him aside for you?"

"You never told me."

He notices that she has stopped  
Playing with the hem of her shirt  
He has stopped  
Biting his bottom lip open  
They have stopped  
Dodging each other's glances.

"I know. You never told me either, to be fair."

And he remembers all of those nights  
When he had wanted to tell her  
That she was everything.  
"I didn't know how.  
I was…afraid.  
I still am."

Their hands are back  
Once again, their fingers tangled.  
And he thinks that  
Such a simple touch  
Could break him  
Like it did all of those times  
When passion overcame him  
And still he held himself back  
Not ready to take all of her.

"So…what now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what does this mean?  
This talk, what does it mean?"

"It means we talked.  
It means we confessed.  
We tied all the loose ends.  
We said what was left unsaid."

He turns away.  
He takes his hand back.  
"That's now what I want.  
I don't-  
I don't want this to be it."  
She does not look at him.  
"You don't want that either.  
There has to be more."

She closes her eyes.  
She parts her lips slightly.  
She brings her hands to her forehead.  
"Jess, I'm getting married."

God, if her touch hadn'tbroken him….  
With no air left  
He finds it hard to form words.  
She is scared now.  
Her eyes are frantic.  
"I don't want either of us to regret this.  
Okay?"

He looks up at her  
For what is sure to be  
One of the last times.  
"Okay. No regrets."


End file.
